The Darkest Night
by Shur'tugal Cadak
Summary: Just moments after the black dragon's terrifying display of power, Eragon is torn between how he feels and what is expected of him against Galbatorix and in the gates of Urû'baen.


The black dragon Shruikan had just finished its terrifying display of flames and power, the gates to Urû'baen closing once more. They had yet to attack but the mere sight of the black dragon's sheer size was enough to create pause in even the most hardened of warriors.

Eragon shuddered as he stood by Saphira, never expecting the dragon to look as it did, let alone be used to frighten the Varden. His heart raced and, for the first time in many months, he felt a gut clenching terror coupled with his mind nearly screaming at him to run away as quickly as he could. It was an all-encompassing terror that forced his heart to pound in his ears and deafen those around him.

_Little one,_ came the soothing voice of his dragon, her attempts to calm him helping, but ultimately unsuccessful. _Eragon, we must be brave for the Varden and the people of Alagaësia. We are their hope in these dark times._

Eragon knew this. He knew it too well. The only free Dragon Rider that could possibly hope to oppose the king and he was terrified. He gave Saphira a false smile, rubbing her scaly side. _I will be brave for them, but also for you._

Saphira hummed deep in her chest, the sound drowning out the murmurs nearby. He had grown to like the sound in the time he spent with his dragon, but even then it could not completely allay his fears.

A hand on his shoulder startled Eragon, though he kept his composure as he turned to face Roran, his cousin grim faced and exhausted. "I don't want to waste too much of your time, Eragon," Roran said in a hushed tone as he glanced to the capital in the distance, "but I need to know… do you have any plans to handle…" He grimaced for a moment, making a general gesture to Urû'baen. "Well, how do you plan on dealing with Galbatorix and his dragon?"

Eragon trusted Roran and treated him as a brother, though he knew the question was more than simply a question of his plan. Roran wanted peace of mind and Eragon couldn't give it to him. At least, not as he wanted to.

With the same hollow smile he gave Saphira, he clasped Roran's shoulders before nodding. "Of course, Roran Stronghammer. I have a plan to handle even the mightiest of foes." He hoped that this would force Roran to set his concerns aside and, for the most part, it worked.

"Thank you, Eragon," Roran said, a faint smile breaking his hardened his expression. He glanced at Urû'baen one last time before stepping back and letting a soft breath escape him. "For all of our sakes, I just hope the king is too lazy to leave his castle and join the fight."

Eragon unease was continuing to build as Roran spoke, something Saphira quickly took notice of. _Little one, you must rest. You fight tomorrow and you bring hope to the Varden where they once had none. Be at ease and rest._

Eragon nodded at Saphira before looking back to Roran. "I couldn't help but agree with you more." He stretched slowly before nodding to the war camp behind Roran. "I suggest you sleep now. Your men need a commander who doesn't fall asleep in the saddle or in the middle of clashing in a swordfight."  
Roran chuckled for a moment, nodding. "I suppose you're right, though my ride to Aroughs would have certainly been quicker if sleeping in the saddle was as nice as sleeping on the ground back at home."

The two bantered for a moment or so before parting, leaving each other with mixed feelings for the battle ahead. While Roran's spirits were somewhat bolstered by the exchange, Eragon had utter fear gnawing at his heart and his mind, every moment his feet were above the ground feeling like he could easily just run away and never look back.

* * *

Even with time to try and calm himself, Eragon simply could not. He was bombarded with issues that needed his immediate attention and consideration. How would he help prepare the army in the morning? How could he possibly leave the Varden to deal with the walls once he had his chance to strike out after the king? What if Murtagh would be waiting for Eragon to go after Galbatorix and then attack the Varden in his absence? With the Eldunari to help him, Eragon could no doubt stand up against his half brother but could the elves hold up against Murtagh if Eragon was battling the king? Each and every worry crushed his hopes of victory and a feeling of defeat was beginning to set in. He had doomed the Varden to destruction at the gates of Urû'baen.

His throat felt constricted and his chest ached from his fear. His heart resumed its furious pounding deep in him and his vision flickered from tears welling up in his eyes. How could he live with himself if the Varden failed? So many had died in his name already and yet they did not stop fighting. If he hadn't ever become a Rider then some other person could have taken up the mantle, anyone at all could have been better than him! Doom! He had doomed them all!

_Silence your mind, little one,_ Saphira whispered within Eragon, her tone worried. _You have done much good with me at your side. I picked you as my Rider, not because you would lead a failing movement, but because you were the right choice. You were forced to take up leadership after Nasuada was taken from the Varden. You may not desire to be the king of Alagaësia or the head of the Varden, but fate has thrust you into what you are uneasy with. Please, little one, you will fight well tomorrow. You will be sung as the hero of the land once you strike down the black king. Let these fears no longer beset you._

Eragon's heart continued to pound in his chest, Saphira's encouragements doing nothing. "I need air," he gasped aloud before stumbling out of his tent. The Knighthawks stationed at the entrance saluted immediately before going into a defensive posture.

"Where do you desire to go, Shadeslayer?" one of the dwarves asked gruffly.

"Anywhere that isn't in that blasted tent!" Eragon hissed through gritted teeth. He was quickly losing his composure and it showed, the Nighthawks compressing around him to hide him from any onlookers as he began to meander through the camp.

_Eragon, you must calm yourself, _Saphira pleaded. _So much is at stake._

He ignored his dragon, trying his hardest to shut her from his mind as he stumbled around the camp. He hated the Nighthawks for that moment. He just wanted to run, to feel his feet pounding on the ground until he decided to stop. He didn't need a contingent of protectors, he needed open space.

_Eragon!_ Saphira shouted. She was panicking now, her Rider finally forcing their connection closed. A mournful keen broke the night, causing the men near Saphira to jump and any horse close enough to hear her begin to whinny.

_Good, _Eragon thought coldly. _She should know I need my space. _With that he stopped his guards and ordered their return to his tent.

"Shadeslayer, you cannot be serious!" one of the human guards protested. "What if you are attacked?"

"Then I will fight. I am not a helpless child," Eragon barked. He paid no heed to the momentary unease that rippled through the Nighthawks, nor how he was quickly descending into a cruelty unbecoming of him.

The Nighthawks shifted slowly, one of the Urgals taking up the cause of talking Eragon out of abandoning them. "We are meant to accompany you and protect you. We are too close to Urû'baen to risk leaving you, Flamesword."

Eragon howled in frustration, pacing in a small circle. "I just need space!" he growled, shaking his head. "If it would put you at ease, I will _contact you_ if I need you."

Some of the Nighthawks seemed convinced, though the Urgals were not so quick to agree. "What if we are not faster than what ails you? You would be left to the mercy of monsters uncertain."

At this point, Eragon kicked a rock with his boot, fracturing his big toe in the process. He seethed with the new pain as well as his boiling anger before he finally gave in. "Fine! Stay with me if it makes you feel so bothered! I would have to convince my elf followers to go away next and if I can't convince you six, what luck do I have with them?"

With that, Eragon grumbled to himself in the Ancient Language as he sought to heal his toe and then continued upon their night walk. They were walking the edge of the camp at this point, torches from sentinels lighting their path. Eragon was frequently greeted with soft exclamations of "Shadeslayer" or "Shur'tugal", but no matter how kind or caring their tone he couldn't help but feel an anger and hatred towards the world. At first he felt he was dooming the Varden, but now he felt the Varden were dooming him. He was set upon a pedestal with expectations he simply could not match and they demanded so much from him. Who were they to call out for help during the smallest of moments? Soldiers requested blessings of safety as often as mothers pleaded for blessings of prosperity for their children. An endless stream of names and faces and he simply couldn't take it anymore!

The Nighthawks stopped and Eragon bumped into an Urgal, causing his already pathetic mood to sour further. "Unless it is Galbatorix himself blocking you, I suggest you get moving _now_."

The unmistakable smell of Arya overpowered his senses, sending him into a confusion of anger and longing, though he had learned to control his more base desires after the Blood Pact. "Eragon," Arya said calmly. "I would like to speak to you, aside from your guard if you do not mind." Her tone was soothing, her voice musical, and yet there was a certain edge to it as if she was bothered by something, or she soon expected to be.

The Nighthawks kept their tight formation and for once, Eragon was glad they were there. "I would gladly speak with you Arya, but I needed some time to think and walk-" His reasoning was weak already but Arya quickly interrupted him, stating, "Then you may 'think and walk' after we talk."

The Nighthawks parted after a somewhat threatening glare from Arya and Eragon found himself staring at the woman he pined for so much. Her beautiful features accentuated in the torchlight nearby gave her a wise but foreboding presence, as if something grave was soon to happen. Her tapered ears exposed as they poked through what little hair that wasn't brought back into her tight bun caught Eragon's attention simply because he never focused on one point of her face as the most beautiful.

Eragon forced himself to step forward, doing his best to stifle the anger that he had now began to realize as overzealous as well as trying to hide his expression and affection. The two ventured slightly out of ear shot of the Nighthawks and for a moment, simply stood and stared at the great wall of Urû'baen, the sentries on the wall carrying the torches that barely even showed where they were. A light breeze blew over the field, the chill creeping into Eragon's skin as he stood in silence. For that moment, he was content to simply have the world around him instead of his tent, and at least stand with someone he thought cared- no, he _knows_ cares for him.

Minutes began to pass as they stood together under the stars and moon, the dark night layering the land like a heavy blanket. Eragon could hear the muffled whispers of the Nighthawks behind the two as well as the horses picketed not too far away. It was peaceful, but the burning fear that had crippled Eragon earlier still lingered.

Arya broke the silence carefully. "Have you and Saphira been in an argument?" she asked, her tone soft.

Eragon's face paled, though he hoped the night would conceal that fact. He had completely forgotten he had pushed Saphira away and guilt welled up in him. Making sure to recover quickly, he said, "I just needed a moment alone with my thoughts." He was no master debater by any standards, but his reasoning simply fell apart when speaking with Arya, his justification weak compared to what she knew about his and Saphira's connection.

"Then why not ask her to allow you privacy? You know she would have allowed it." She looked over at Eragon for a moment, studying him with her piercing emerald eyes before looking back to the capital. "What has happened?" she asked, her tone even softer.

Eragon shuddered slowly, unease building. He wanted to confide in Arya, as well as Saphira, but at the same time he dared not show weakness or admit that he had allowed his emotions to crush him as they did. He was torn, but ultimately decided it was best to avoid the truth. "Nothing has happened," he said in reply. "I needed time to think so I acted quickly. I should have asked, of course, but what has happened has happened." He gave a false smile, hoping she would believe him. "I will speak with Saphira later."

Arya was silent for a moment before nodding once. "Then I will let you be." With that, Arya left and Eragon returned to his guards, his once raging anger now lessened. He still feared the world would crumble around him but he was determined to at least rest.

At his word, the Nighthawks formed up and Eragon was escorted back to his tent, once again opening his mind to Saphira. He wished to say so much to her, but she already knew what he wanted to say. She knew him perfectly.

With that, he entered his tent and let his waking dreams take him away.

**Short note: I'm not certain I want to continue further, I just wanted to test my writing for a moment. Ultimately this is not completely in line with the books and I used some artistic license to build on the "style" I was hoping for. Don't expect it to be flawless when it comes to the lore so rather review it on its own merits rather than if it is completely canon. I'm _hoping_ it's an alright beginning because, as stated before, I don't know if this is more of a oneshot or the start of something bigger.**


End file.
